[Barbara Lee]

Geography on a Saturday Morning

………….Hic Sunt Dracones

You know when you have fallen off the map. The dog
down the lane howls and cars screech

through the intersection. At the same time, the eye
captures the moment a willow’s skirt turns so gold

that wanderers halt at the hem to gather its leaves.
Old cartographers knew we would come to this place,

and knew what we would see. Rubies and emeralds
lighting a lonesome beach, beasts with horns,

the fires—all truer than we knew before. I have felt hot

breath on my neck while washing my dishes. I can hear
unidentifiable creatures scratch outside the door.

Air, closed and thick, only moves when that dragon
fans its wings. I smell smoke

and wonder what else may come from beyond.
I don’t know where beyond is exactly. One thing

may be a tell— a wild gleaming in the yard. One thing
is gospel—this morning’s mark on the Hunt-Lenox Globe.